Good bye Sitka

Tonight is my last night in Sitka.  Despite all the walking and the rain, I've had a great time: visiting museums, churches, forests, a national park, and a bear refuge.  What a great town, it was fun playing tourist!

Sitka

Today I arrived in Sitka, a town located in SE Alaska, on the Alaskan panhandle.

For years I have wanted to visit Sitka, formerly Novo Arkhangel'sk (New Archangel), as the town appeared heavily in my dissertation.  By the 1840s this capital of Russian America had a population of 2,000 people: a combination of Russian subjects (Russians, Finns), Creoles, Tlingit, and Aleuts. 

Today Sitka is a vibrant community of 8,600 with a compact downtown area and quite walkable.  (Think of a cross between Mackinac Island and Seattle...mild climate, but very wet.)  The city is on an Baranof Island, completely isolated, with roads that only run about seven miles from downtown north and south before ending.  The houses and buildings are nestled between the Pacific Ocean to the west, and mountains and rainforest to the east.

Grizzly Attack

On Sunday, June 24th a mama grizzly attacked some teenage hikers in the Talketna Mountains.  Read the article here:

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2011/07/25/sam-gottsegen-alaska-bear-attack_n_909195.html

On top of the world: Hatcher Pass

Musk Ox Farm: Palmer, Alaska

Summer at the Independence Mine

There's a very short life cycle up here: for about 8 weeks flowers are in bloom and everything is very green and lush.  On the few days when the sun comes out, the valley sparkles.

Bear Tracks

On Wednesday, the 13^th of July, Tan and I went for a hike on the Box Ridge Trail.  The trailhead begins on the Hatcher Pass (Willow-Fishhook) Road; a narrow, windy, steep dirt road that crosses the southern part of the Talkeetna Mountains.  The trail begins below the tree line and follows an old ATV trail.  It starts off nice enough, running through the birch trees and crossing a small stream.  So far, this is different from our regular trails, since it is not completely in the mountains, in the tundra or boulders above the tree line.  The trail gradually ascends to a ridge above the tree line, with some wildflowers, shrubs, and tundra.  Interesting though, once you are up there its pretty flat, and not mountainous.  There are probably great views of the surrounding mountains, but it was pretty cloudy and we had limited visibility.  Well, while following the path on the ridge, we couldn’t help but notice all the bear tracks.  They were everywhere, small paw prints and large ones, some going in every direction—the bears must use this path as their own highway.  Well, despite the presence of the clouds, at least we were above the treeline, so even if there were bears near by, we stood a good chance of spotting them.  Luckily (for me, Tan was disappointed) we did not see any bears.  Had we happened across a mama bear with some cubs, it would have been trouble.

Facial Hair: after Six Weeks

Ghost Story

Some of the employees and volunteers at ISMHP have talked about giving midnight ghost tours.  This is a ghost town after all, and such tours would probably be popular.  Think about how creepy it would be to walk through abandoned buildings from the 1930s, at our near nighttime, especially if it was nice and foggy (often the case).  Well, there is at least one ghost story, which has been documented in local tourist books and tv shows. 

Phil Coleman was a miner at the Independence Mine during the late 1930s.  After the mine closed in 1950, he was brought in to act as a caretaker.  According to one woman (Willie Pederson) who lived at the mine in late 1950, when Phil Coleman was the caretaker, he never went anywhere without a shotgun.  Well by the 1950s, Phil was somewhat elderly.  He spent his days painstakingly maintaining the mill buildings and shoveling snow off their roofs.  Unbeknownst to Phil, the mining company decided to auction off some of the mill equipment (the marcy ball mill, generators, etc.).  When they removed the machinery, they ripped down the walls of the mill structures.  All of Phil’s work had been a waste of time.  According to local lore, Phil died of a heart attack in the Big House (present-day visitor center—where I live) soon after.

It is said that late at night, you may still see Phil walking the grounds.  Some versions have him walking a dog.  The more solid and scary story involves the wife of the former ranger (Pat Murphy).  One night, during the late 1990s, she and some friends were in the old office building.  This is the building where the mine manager had a six-foot tall safe, where he kept the gold sponges about to be sent to Seattle.  While in the building, Mrs. Murphy felt a rush of cold air.  When she turned around she saw an apparition of a man who told her to “get out!”

I have not seen the ghost.  But as offers have been floated to make me the winter caretaker, I am reminded of The Shining.  During the winter, it is common to see 10-15 feet of snow.  In such cases, this facility is completely isolated on a mountain, miles from anyone.  (Though, I could ski out.)  There is also a no-alcohol policy up here.  No thanks, won’t be staying here through the winter.  “No beer and no tv make Homer something something…”